And now those rocs flew ahead—invisible in the darkness but cawing louder than thunder.
The rain intensified.
Lightning flashed and Tanin saw them: dozens of the rotted vultures, not even a mark away, hunters upon their backs.
He beat his wings, reached Maev, and tapped her with his wing. “They might not have seen us,” he whispered. “Swallow your fire. We descend. We land in the forest and hide.”
But Maev—damn warthog of a sister!—howled in rage. Instead of swallowing her fire, she blasted out a great pillar.
“Uncle!” she roared, eyes red, wings beating. “Uncle, come face me. I will burn you!”
The rocs shrieked. The hunters upon them shouted battle cries. Maev tried to fly toward them, to challenge them all, but Tanin grabbed her tail, holding her back.
“Maev, no! We can’t fight them all.”
Panting, her wings beating, she turned toward him in the sky. Her face was a mask of rage. “He killed Mother, Tanin.” Smoke blasted out of her nostrils. “He’s probably the one who poisoned Requiem. Now I kill him.”
She wrenched free from his grasp and shot toward the hundred rocs. Her fire blazed across the sky. The rocs flew nearer, eyes bright yellow, their oily wings blazing white with every bolt of lightning.
Tanin cursed as he followed his sister. He sucked in air, filled his belly with crackling fire, and blasted out a flaming jet.
The stream spun, crackling, and crashed into a roc. The beast burst into flames, stinking and blasting out smoke, but still it flew toward him. The rider upon its back screamed, a living torch, skin peeling and flesh melting. Feathers tore free and glided through the sky, still burning. The flaming bird kept flapping its wings. It crashed into Tanin, biting and clawing.
Tanin screamed as the beak drove into his shoulder, chipping his scales. Claws slashed at his belly, tearing through skin. The fire engulfed him, so hot he closed his eyes for fear of them melting. Blindly, he clawed and bit. His teeth sank into flesh, and he was horrified to find that it tasted like delicious, savory fowl. He spat out a chunk, whipped his tail, and clubbed the beast. The flaming roc tumbled down like a comet, leaving a trail of fire.
“Maev!” Tanin shouted, mouth full of the animal’s blood. His own blood dripped from his belly. “Get out of here!”
He spotted her fighting ahead, blowing fire in a ring around her. A dozen rocs surrounded her, daring not approach. Their riders shot arrows. Most shattered against her scales, but one drove into her back, and she bucked and roared.
“Hello, nephew and niece!” The cry rose above, high-pitched and raspy and thick with mirth, a banshee cry. “Fly to me. Fly to your favorite uncle.”
Tanin looked up and growled.
Zerra.
His uncle flew there upon a massive roc larger than any dragon. The chieftain wore a cloak of buffalo hide and bore a long, scrimshawed bow. Yet he no longer looked like Jeid, his twin. Years in the wilderness had weathered the chieftain, turning him into a lanky strip of a man. Half his head looked like melted wax, hairless and grooved and sagging. His left ear was gone and his eye drooped, peering out of the scars, blazing with hatred.
Dragonfire did that, Tanin thought, and hope sprang through his fear. There are other dragons.
“You die now, traitor!” Maev shouted. She blasted fire and soared, knocking past two rocs. She seemed to barely feel their talons, even as those talons tore into her legs. “You betrayed your own family. Now I will burn the rest of you.”
She blasted out a jet of flame.
Zerra kneed his roc and the bird banked, dodging the inferno. He soared and aimed his bow. His arrow flew, capped with metal, and sank into Maev’s back.
She cried out.
Suddenly she sounded very young—no longer the gruff warrior but the frightened girl fleeing her town.
“Maev!” Tanin cried out.
He flew toward her through a rain of arrows. He howled as one scraped along his head. He blasted fire, aiming at Zerra, but his uncle banked again. Tanin swung his tail, driving its spikes into Zerra’s roc. The oily bird screeched, its stench overwhelming, and fell back.
Tanin grabbed his sister. “Fly, damn you! Show me your speed.”
She panted and growled. “I will kill him.”
“Not tonight! Not like this. Tonight we flee.” More rocs flew toward them, and more arrows whistled. “I have a plan. A plan to trap him. See if you can fly faster!”
He turned and darted forward, motioning her to follow. She blasted flame, scattering rocs, and dashed after him.
A dozen of the rank birds flew toward them, eyes blazing and talons gleaming. Twin blasts of flame sent them scattering. Tanin and Maev shot forward, claws lashing, teeth biting, tails clubbing the vultures aside. Talons drove into Tanin’s flank, and he howled as his scales cracked. He torched a roc, cursed as an arrow hit his left horn, and kept flying.
They broke past the last defenders and entered open sky. They beat their wings madly, flying faster than ever. Tanin’s wounds ached and sticky, black roc blood still filled his mouth. When he looked over his shoulders, he saw the horde following. Zerra led them, sneering as he drew another arrow. Tanin ducked and the projectile whistled over his head. He answered with a blaze of fire, turned back forward, and kept fleeing.
“What is your damn plan?” Maev shouted at his side. Her fangs were bared, her eyes narrowed. Blood seeped from the wound on her back; the arrow still thrust out of her flesh.
“Save your breath and keep flying!” he shouted.
In truth, he had no plan—that is, other than hoping they were faster than rocs. Fighting these creatures meant death. Running through the forest would offer no sanctuary; the beasts’ sense of smell could pick out a hare in its burrow a mark away. All Tanin could hope for was to outfly them.
He rose higher, so high his ears ached and he could barely breathe. He entered the cover of clouds. Maev joined him and they flew through the vapor, blind. Behind him, Tanin heard shrieks and knew the rocs were following. The wind gusted and he spun, nearly lost his balance, but managed to right himself and keep flying. Lightning pierced the clouds. Behind him a roc screeched, and Tanin glanced over his shoulder to see the animal burning. It tumbled down and vanished.
Another lightning bolt flared. The stench of seared meat rose. The wind gusted again, and Maev spun and knocked into him. Tanin tried to keep flying forward, but he could barely tell left from right, up from down. He could see only several feet ahead, and more lightning blasted. Rain slammed into him, and the wind beat his wings like a man beating dusty rugs.
“Damn it!”
A roc rose ahead of him, then another, their eyes yellow, their beaks opened wide. Tanin blasted fire. He burned one, and another barreled into him, talons scratching. Lightning flashed again, searing the bird, and Tanin screamed; the energy passed through the roc into him. His scales crackled, his teeth rattled, and his ears buzzed.
He dropped from the sky.
He tried to beat his wings but they were too stiff, too hurt. He tumbled.
“Damn you Tanin!” Maev shouted above. “Fly!”
He could not. He fell. He managed to stretch out his wings, to catch an air current, to glide, but the rocs surrounded him again, and arrows flew, and somewhere his sister screamed.
Is this the end? Tanin thought. Do we die here, far from home, two more weredragons for them to hunt?
He tried to summon fire, but only sparks left his maw. He was too weak, too weary. He dipped again in the sky.
And then he saw it.
“There!” Tanin shouted, pointing his claws. “On the mountain below!”
A cave. It looked too small for rocs. Summoning the last of his strength, he narrowed his eyes and swooped.
The wind roared around him. He pulled his wings close to his body, his head pounding at the descent. Maev dived at his side, blasting out a wake of smoke. The mountain rose below, a shard of stone piercing the night sky. Tanin clenched his jaw
as the wind shrieked and the plunge hammered at his skull. He leveled off and shot toward the cave. The entrance was no larger than a doorway.
An instant before he would slam into the mountainside, Tanin released his magic.
He tumbled into the cave in human form. His knees banged against the craggy stone floor, and his teeth knocked together. Behind him, Maev shouted as she shifted back into a human. She too entered the cave, slamming against his back with a curse.
“Run deeper!” Tanin said. He pushed himself up and raced down the tunnel.
He could see nothing. Somewhere in his pack he had a tinderbox and an oil lamp, but he had no time to rummage for them. He moved as fast as he could, holding the walls for support. The tunnel was just wide enough for him to walk.
Maev moved behind him, holding his shoulder. “You’re leading us to a dead end!”
Behind them, Tanin heard the rocs shriek. When he spun around, a flash of lightning illuminated the cave entrance. The great vultures were clawing at the stone, trying to enter, but were too large. A second bolt revealed the riders dismounting and climbing into the darkness.
Maev growled and drew her sword. The broad, leaf-shaped blade gleamed when lightning flashed again. “I’ll kill them one by one.”
He grabbed her arm and tugged her deeper. “Keep moving! I told you I had an idea. Come on!”
The shouts rose behind him, echoing in the chamber. An arrow whistled and slammed against the cave wall by Tanin’s head. Another sliced his hair. He winced but kept running. Torches blazed behind, filling the cave with red light. Dragging Maev with him, Tanin rounded a bend an instant before arrows clattered into the wall where he’d just stood.
The cave became so narrow he had to stoop, then crawl on hands and knees. Icy water trickled beneath him. Maev crawled before him, cursing as she went.
“I’m not a damn worm,” she said. “Let’s fight them, Tanin.”
He shoved her onward. “Keep crawling unless you want an arrow in your backside.”
The shouts rose behind them. “The weredragons are trapped. Find them. Burn them. Slay the diseased creatures!” Men cursed, grunted, and spat. One burst into a rude song about buggering dragons with his spear. His companions laughed, and another shouted that he’d grab the female and thrust into her with the spear between his legs. That incurred more laughter from the men—and a fresh stream of curses from Maev.
“That’s it!” she said, stopped crawling, and tried to turn around. “Get out of my way, Tanin, or I’ll kill you before I kill them.”
Tanin growled. “Keep moving!”
He gave her a mighty shove forward . . . and she vanished.
He blinked.
“Tanin, you sheep’s wormy bladder!” she cried, voice distant and echoing.
The torchlight grew nearer behind him. When Tanin leaned forward, he saw that the tunnel opened up into a great, round cavern. Maev slid down the smooth, bowl-like slope until she toppled over in its center. She looked no larger than a bean dropped into a goblet. A single hole, roughly the size of a heart, pierced the ceiling, letting in rain and a blast of light when lightning blazed.
“Slay them!” rose a shriek behind him—Zerra’s voice. “Slay the reptiles!”
Arrows whistled. One scratched along Tanin’s shoulder. He grunted and leaped into the sloping chamber.
“Skin them!”
“Shatter their bones!”
Arrows flew.
Tanin slid down the clammy stone slope, summoned his magic, and shifted.
He beat his wings.
He spun around, rose back toward the tunnel, and stuck his head into the opening. The corridor was so narrow his horns banged against the ceiling; he felt like a man trapped in stocks. His wings flapped behind him, keeping him afloat.
The hunters were close now, crawling forward with their torches. Another bow fired, and the arrow slammed into Tanin’s cheek, shattering against his scales. He sucked in air. He blew his fire.
The jet blazed through the tunnel, a shrieking inferno of heat and light, white-hot, spinning like a typhoon of sunfire.
The hunters screamed. A few tried to crawl back, withering, dying in the blaze. Others farther back rolled as they screamed, trying in vain to extinguish the fire, only for new waves of the inferno to crash over them.
Tanin pulled his head back long enough to look over his shoulder.
“Maev, see the opening in the ceiling?” he shouted down to her. “Claw a way out!”
She leaped, shifted into a green dragon, and flew up toward him. “Move! Let me into the tunnel. Let me kill them.”
“You claw us an exit, I’ll hold them back. Go! Widen that hole!”
She growled. “I’m not escaping. Let me through!”
She grabbed his tail, but he shoved her away. More hunters were racing down the tunnel, crawling over the remains of their burnt brethren. Tanin returned his head into the tunnel and blew more flames.
When his fire died, he heard Maev shout behind him. “All right, I carved your damn escape route. Come on!” She tugged his tail. “Hurry.”
He pulled his head free, leaving the tunnel full of corpses, and saw that Maev had widened the hole in the ceiling—it was now just wide enough for his human form. He beat his wings, scattering smoke, and flew toward the hole. He grabbed the rim with his left claw, released his magic, and dangled as a human.
“Maev!” he shouted.
The green dragon still flew by the wall below. She was now blowing her own fire into the tunnel. Smoke blasted out and heat and light bathed the chamber.
“Burn, you bastards!” Maev shouted, and her eyes were red when she pulled her head back. “Burn in the Abyss, you goat-shagging clumps of shite.” Tears gleamed on her scaly cheeks, and she blasted more fire. “I will burn you all.”
Tanin pulled himself through the makeshift opening, emerging onto the mountainside. Rain fell and wind beat his hair and tunic. When lightning struck, he saw the rocs farther below upon the mountain. Riderless, they did not yet see him.
“Maev!” he shouted down into the hole.
She sent another blast into the tunnel, beat her wings, and rose toward the opening. She too grabbed the rim, shifted back into her human form, and crawled out onto the mountainside. They stood side by side in the rain.
“There are more in the caves.” Maev balled her fists and her legs trembled. “We’ll get them from the other side. We’ll burn them all. We’ll—“
He placed a hand on her shoulder, hushing her. He spoke softly. “They still have rocs down there. We can’t fight them all tonight. We hurt them. We killed many. Now it’s time to fly south.” When she opened her mouth to object, he hushed her again. “Prince Sena needs us. Another Vir Requis. We can’t save him if we die here.”
Maev spat and cursed, and her tears mingled with the rain. “They killed Mother. They poisoned Requiem. I hate them. I hate all of them.”
Tanin closed his eyes, seeing that old memory.
Kill the creature!
Father, kill him!
Forever would his old beloved fill his mind, he knew. Forever would Ciana’s words wound him.
He spoke in a soft voice, more to himself than to his sister. “The best revenge isn’t killing your enemy. The best revenge is living well. We must live. We must build our tribe. And tonight we must fly south.”
She nodded, finally silent. They shifted together and flew into the storm. By the time they heard the rocs pursuing again, they were deep into the clouds and rain, flying south in darkness, flying to that hint of light, that shred of hope, that dream of another—another like them, hunted and hurt, needing that revenge, needing that new life.
They flew through the night, silent, leaving the Goldtusk tribe to lick its wounds far behind them. They flew until they saw it in the dawn, gleaming white and gold—the southern coast.
“The sea,” Tanin said. He glided upon the wind, his wounds still aching.
“Beyond it lies Eteer.” Maev fle
w with him, blood still staining her scales.
They were both hurt, weary, consumed with pain and memory. They wobbled as they descended. They landed in the sand, shifted back into human forms, and huddled together, watching the waves.
ISSARI
ISSARI WALKED THROUGH THE CITY of demons.
Once this had been a city called Eteer, the thriving, bright heart the world’s greatest civilization. Once this had been a beacon of light, of hope, of order in a world of chaos. Once this had been her home. Now as Issari walked down the cobbled street, she moved through a hive of rot, blood, pus, and evil from the depths.
The demons swarmed everywhere. They scuttled up walls like monkeys. They perched upon domed roofs. They swung from palm trees, raced through gutters, and clattered and crawled and slithered along the streets. Their stench wafted, and their leaking sores coated leaves and stones. No two were alike. Some towered on stilt-like legs, withered beings like mummified corpses, their eyes glowing blue. Others dragged themselves forward, obese balls of fat, eyes peering between folds of skin, tongues licking their warty lips. Some flew as bats, scaled and horned, cackling as their heads spun. Others lurked in shadows, conjoined twins stitched together, four or five in each clump, writhing things of many legs, eyes, and tufts of hair.
“Creatures of nightmares,” Issari whispered, clutching her robes as she walked down the street. “Terrors of the Abyss.”
She had grown up hearing tales of the Abyss, that forbidden land that festered underground. For many generations, the kings of Eteer had guarded that unholy kingdom’s doors; by ancient right, they governed the lands above and below the ground. Now her father had opened the seal. Now this terror swept across the city, and Issari—heir to the throne—did not know how this kingdom could ever light the world again.
“Weredragons, weredragons!” the demons cried. “We seek weredragons to kill. Brides, brides! We seek brides to fill with our spawn.”
Ahead, several creatures—they looked like men turned inside out, their organs dripping—moved down the street, sniffing and snorting.
“We smell for dragons, brothers! Do you smell dragons? We smell for brides too.”
FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy Page 133
